Blattella Germanica
by Kataoi
Summary: Most people called them pests or vermin; for some reason, Sasha took to calling cockroaches his friends.


One man's pest was another man's friend.

Usually that term would apply to such vermin as, say, mice, or squirrels, or perhaps an infestation of wasps that made their home under the gutter and above the bathroom window (or was that just his apartment?). In short, they were the nuisance creatures, the ones that provided some service to the world but just had to be _horrible_ things while doing so.

At least, most people thought this.

For as clean and meticulous and "ugh, germs" as he was, Sasha also had a particular keenness for vermin. Mice were test subjects, squirrels fantastic clairvoyance officers, and wasps – well, no, okay, wasps were beings of pure malice that had to be dealt with, as they didn't have the decency to wield honey-dispensing skills like their much friendlier cousins. But _pests_? They were hardly that. Quite the contrary; they were friends.

Now, just because Sasha _liked_ them didn't mean he invited them into his home and laboratory to stay. No, hardly that. They belonged outside, as did all animals, and were shooed out with telekinetic pushes when they made the mistake of staying for longer than a few hours (yes, he kept track). They were health hazards, for one, and could inflict serious damage on finely-tuned equipment, for another. But they were strangely enticing to talk to.

Especially that kind known as the cockroach.

From the outside looking in, it was the worst juxtaposition imaginable. He wore gloves for more than avoiding psychic readings via touch. They were also a useful tool for avoiding _touching things_, things that were dirty and otherwise not suited for direct contact. With such a distaste for germs, why were cockroaches, of all things, allowed?

"The shop often kept me indoors ," Sasha mumbled into the open air one afternoon as he leaned back in his chair, screwdriver in hand. But although his guest could not be seen by obvious sight, they _were_ there - just hiding, just a bit shy. "And Vati didn't much care for me wandering too far off from home..."

He peered around the room, his new lab space at Whispering Rock (one of the bargaining tools used to get him to take the summer job), and withheld a sigh. The space was rather empty at the moment, having had its equipment to fully monitor the geodesic psychoisolation chambers gutted out a few weeks prior. What remained was concrete and awkward nooks carved into the walls, but very little else. So far, all he had been able to negotiate into the space was better lighting and a desk.

Basically, he was starting at square one.

Sasha had to bring his own equipment, which meant carefully packing up his office computer and attempting to scrounge together a few miles of assorted cables, while also casually lifting several more items from the office supply closet than he needed. If anyone asked, he would just give them the patented 'unimpressed with your words' stare and slink off. It tended to work.

Assembling a lab was not going to be easy, sure, but earning the trust (or the fear) of the local wildlife was going to be something else. The bears had managed to get one scratch to his forehead in before learning to not mess with a marksman, and the cougars interrupted his first night with the other counselors by singeing his jacket. Meanwhile, the squirrels felt fairly indifferent on the whole introduction of a summer camp to their home, and the bugs...well, they were being rather pesky about the whole thing.

Morceau cursed them while wrapping his treehouse ("outpost!") in mosquito netting, while Milla took to figuring out a way to psychically repel bugs ("maybe a force field of some kind" "why not just use those bug-repelling torches?" _and the glare she gave to that..._) while requesting about ten gallons of bug spray from HQ. Sasha, though, didn't mind. He was fine with them buzzing around the campgrounds and, again: so long as they didn't think his lab was their _home_, they were allowed to pay him a visit.

There was at least one cockroach, one _Periplaneta americana_, attempting diplomatic relations. He could sense it scuttling around, having entered from way up high in the GPC and working its way down. It was somewhere on the steps, somewhere in the middle, and had stopped moving upon hearing his words.

"Is the intrusion of people a rude event to wake up?" Sasha returned to his work, an overly-modified antennae that was to be installed into the various radios up in Oleander's treehouse ("_outpost!_") so as to attempt to receive a satellite uplink and patch in internet. "I can empathize with your situation, though I can only warn you that it'll soon be worse."

The cockroach hesitated before hurrying down more steps, stumbling a few times and falling onto its back. Sasha winced, hearing just a slight shriek of a surprised cry before there came chirps of reassurance. Then it finished up its trek and took a few cautious steps onto the ground, unsure if progress was invited.

"Psychic children are going to make your life difficult...and mine..." Sasha squinted while securing a screw, rotating the piece in his hand after doing so. "If it ever gets to be too much, you are welcome to relax here...but you're not allowed to stay here. You understand."

_Good sir, I am offended_ the bug eeked in response, stopping dead in its path.

He sighed. "Don't be angry, it is simply a matter that cannot be risked."

_You are the one intruding on our lands_ was the huffy remark he received. So this was going to be one of the more indignant ones, was it? So be it.

"And thanks to the actions of humans, your populations thrive. At least the camp here is the only blip of population here for miles, and even then, this area remains vastly to the wilderness." Sasha set down the screwdriver, swapping it for the soldering iron that patiently awaited its turn. "You don't have to be difficult. I'm going to be the only one who wants to reach out to you. The rest will treat you as pests."

_How rude_.

"Perhaps."

_...But not you?_

"No. It's as I said – I was raised indoors for the most part. Your relatives in Germany were one some of my few companions during my youth."

The cockroach made a few more steps forward, paused, and then hurried forward, rushing over the floor and climbing up his desk. _Poor dear. Left all alone with none of your own kind?_

"Somewhat, yes."

_No wonder you have taken to conversing with a creature such as I._

"I don't find it very hard." Sasha glanced at the critter and gave it a quick smile, hoping to have smoothed over the earlier transgressions. "I find that humans don't always have interesting or important things to say."

_And we do?_

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Just that -"

His words were interrupted by a loud, concussive series of metallic bangs from up above, aggressive and quick in their beats. "_NEIN? YOU IN THERE?_" a man's voice roared, rattling in the metal of the dome above.

It was Morceau. Sasha's expression fell into an annoyed frown. He was about to fire off a mental message before remembering the shielding effects of the GPC, sighing at whoever thought 'psychoisoloation' was a great idea.

"For instance, I would rather talk to you than him," he said to the cockroach before lifting himself up from his chair and levitating towards the first set of stairs. "Feel free to stay but don't -"

_Infest, yes, I understand._

"Have to be careful," Sasha answered, holding his hands up defensively. "The first time I didn't specify and turned the closet into a hotel..."

Vati hadn't been too happy with that.

"Which I later realized was a justified response."

_Fear not_ the little bug chirped in reassurance. _I shall respect your wishes so long as you respect_ _mine._

Sasha had made it to the middle of the stair climb before turning on his heel and attempting to wag a hesitating finger at his desk. "Don't...lump me in with the rest," he said, flashes of Morceau and Milla complaining about the bugs appearing in his mind, while an imagined sequence of generic children wreaked psychic havoc on the local wildlife played on the side reel.

He now had reason to be worried about the cockroach uprising. Now he was beginning to regret being lured to Whispering Rock with promises of a lab space.


End file.
